Firsts and Seconds
by Once Upon a Whim
Summary: Wyatt plans a trip [Lucy/Wyatt, future-ish. Post-season 2? Season 3?]
1. First

**Another idea I've had forever, but never had time to turn into written words.**

 **And I went for present tense here, not my usual. If I missed any pasts, I apologize. That goes for other typos or dumb word repetitions too :)**

* * *

Wyatt takes a deep breath and steels himself. Standing there staring at the endless rows and cement of the parking garage isn't going to get him anywhere, so he slips into the car and eases the door closed as gently as possible. He casts a soft glance over to the passenger seat, where Lucy, just as he'd hoped, has already nodded off, her chin drooping to her chest as she leans against the car door. He almost reaches out to brush away the few wavy tendrils of hair that have escaped her loose ponytail and fallen to cover her face, but he refrains. A tiny twinge of guilt gnaws at the pit of his stomach at having feigned a problem with the paperwork from the rental car agency, but he'd needed a little time to allow her to succumb to the combination of a food coma from the burrito she'd scarfed leaving the airport and the persisting effect of the Dramamine she'd taken twice on the flight. And waking her up now because he can't keep his hands to himself could mess up his whole plan.

So instead he slides his seat back a little, adjusts the car's mirrors, and makes sure the bottle of soda he'd procured from the rental agency's vending machine is ready in the cupholder for the caffeine boost he'll inevitably need in a couple of hours. He takes a peek at the directions in Google Maps, but he doesn't dare actually activate the navigation lest the abrasive voice wake Lucy. And with a sigh and rental papers in hand, he backs out of the parking spot and heads for the garage exit.

It's already dark out as he follows the serpentine series of ramps and loops to the highway, which is helpful in the grand scheme of things, but not ideal given the travel fatigue that still always seemed to dog him on any flight, be it halfway around the world to Afghanistan or a few short hours from San Francisco to Dallas. But he'll be fine, he knows, given what he's anticipating at the end of the drive.

He's grateful that traffic ends up pretty thin once they're out of the main metro area; then again, he wasn't exactly expecting it to be bumper-to-bumper on a random Monday night in October in rural Texas anyway.

The nerves start encroaching little by little the longer they drive. He could open the window – back in the days of riding around in Grandpa Sherwin's beat up old truck with no air conditioning, the warm night breezes out in the middle of nowhere, Texas, had always had a calm serenity to them, even when family life proved chaotic. But it would hardly be the same effect speeding along at over 75 miles an hour, and he can't risk the wind noise waking Lucy.

She _does_ wake up for a few minutes just over halfway through the drive and it has Wyatt's stomach twisting from the instant those long lashes of hers start fluttering to life. But thankfully, they're _really_ in the middle of nowhere, so there are no signs for her to notice along the route. And all she really does in the end is shoot him a soft, sleepy smile and then she slips her left hand into his right to lace their fingers together before she nods off again.

Wyatt lets out a shaky breath of his own as Lucy's breathing deepens again. He'll have to forego the rest of his soda, but right now, the feel of her hand in his is worth the small sacrifice. The knots in his gut are doing more to keep him awake than the caffeine would anyway.

It's another two hours or so before he carefully works his hand out of her loose grip to reach for his phone again. He's done this before, thinks he remembers the directions barked from the backseat, thinks he recognizes the different turns down nondescript wooded rural roads, but he's not going to chance being wrong. Google reassures him that he's on the right track, so it's not long before he's easing the car to a stop in the small parking lot that wasn't there the last time they were.

Lucy still barely stirs when he turns off the car. He glances back down at his phone, and he can't help but smirk. It is nearing one in the morning, but that's still only eleven their time, and she's been asleep for almost five hours. He knows as well as anyone that she – and he, and Rufus, and Jiya and the handful of other stand-ins they've had – can manage for days running around the past on little sleep; he's the only one, aside from maybe Amy, that knows quite how talented she is at making up for all that lost sleep at the drop of a hat, especially in the car.

She looks so soft and peaceful and just so damn pretty that he's reluctant to wake her, and he doesn't, for a while. But then he yawns himself, and it's just going to keep getting later, and he knows that he can't use her napping as a cover for his nerves any longer.

So he gingerly reaches over and smooths his hand over her hair, then lets it drift down to cup her jaw. He runs his thumb over her cheek, whispering, "Hey, sleeping beauty. Wake up."

It earns him something between a grunt and a muffled moan when she shifts in the seat to curl away from him. He just chuckles and rubs her back, raising his voice a tiny bit. "Lucy…"

That one sinks in; she blinks awake sluggishly and casts a groggy smile at him over her shoulder. "Mmm, we here?" she asks, her voice heavy with sleep as she looks around.

Wyatt knows she's not recognizing it yet; she's expecting the old family house, once Grandpa Sherwin's, now Wyatt's cousin's.

But it doesn't really matter; she'll figure it out eventually. He takes a deep breath, replying, "We're… somewhere." He unbuckles her seatbelt for her before climbing out of the car himself, urging, "Come on, get out."

 **TBC...**


	2. Second

**Thanks so much to all who read/commented on/reviewed the first part. Sorry for the mini-cliffhanger; it was Wyatt's fault, not mine. And again, please excuse any tense mix-ups here. I'm still not fully used to using present.**

* * *

Lucy follows his lead and climbs out of the car. She's still a little groggy and slow-moving at first, but Wyatt sees the exact second that recognition hits her and it dawns on her where they are. Her hand is still on the open car door and she shuts it absently while her gaze darts between him and the property behind him. Confused, she states warily, "…this isn't Texas."

He ducks his head and manages a chuckle. "So you do recognize it?"

"Yes…" she replies, now rounding the car to approach him, sleepy confusion written all over her face. "But what the hell are we doing back here? We were supposed to go the _other_ way from Dallas."

Wyatt just smirks fondly. She doesn't get it yet, so he's going to have to help her get there. He reaches for her, slips an arm around her waist to pull her to his side. Both facing the small building, he nods at it across the parking lot to the low, locked gate blocking the footpath, grateful for the clear skies and the nearly full moon that allows her to see everything he needs her to see. "I couldn't get access inside, even during the day – they're doing renovations on the museum."

She's not often so slow to catch on, so she's clearly still not quite awake and definitely fuzzy on his logic. Her brow furrows and she stammers out a befuddled "What…"

He grins and tugs at her hip so she's facing him. "You're telling me you don't remember our first kiss?" he goads playfully, gesturing again with his chin at the aging cabin.

Her reply is immediate and automatic, her tone verging on 'lecturing professor' as if she's stating the obvious, "…was in the parking lot at Mason after…" But then she trails off, whirls around for another glance behind her as if to confirm for herself what he's implying. Then there's a soft smile and maybe even a faint blush blooming on her face – he can't quite tell in the silvery-toned moonlight – as she turns back around and protests, "But that was-"

"-not just a role," he finishes, grinning as he pulls her closer. "And you knew it."

She's all too happy to just reenact that first kiss after that statement, and Wyatt isn't about to refuse her when she slides her hand up to his face and leans in to press her lips to his.

But then she's not pressing her lips to his anymore, and she's holding him at arm's length. He can practically see the wheels of realization turning in her head; those knots in his stomach that had been waning ever so slightly suddenly tighten again, and damn it, shouldn't this be less nerve-wracking the second time? She manages a single, wary, "But…" and then she's quiet and staring at him and he knows that's his cue whether he's feeling ready or not.

He takes deep breath. He's rehearsed this in his head any number of times; the words should just flow eloquently for as often as he's lived this moment in his head already. Flow words do, but it's all the not-quite-right ones and they come as a bumbling, rambling, stammering mishmash of the explanation he wants to give her.

"I didn't know if I should do it this way," he admits. "If it should be different… but it kind of made sense, you know?" he blurts out hurriedly. "Since _our_ first kiss pretty much directly involved a story about uh," he stumbles over the words – he'd had a better way to put this, what _was_ it? "Uh, what my other first kiss kind of turned into eventually." He grimaces, wrinkling his nose at his own awkward wording, but he has to keep going. "So you knew about it. And I didn't think you deserved any less."

Then he's done with that and she's still just staring at him, and he's just staring at her, and, honestly, he's not even sure what he just said, exactly, but she's an intelligent woman, so she's going to have to be good with that because he doesn't know what else to say or do other than to just get on with it and get down on his knee.

So he does.

And that's when it's clear that any doubts in her head have been erased and know she knows for sure what's going on. Her jaw drops and her hands fly up to cover her mouth, muffling the "Oh god, Wyatt…" that she gasps.

But neither the gasp nor her expression are giving him any indication as to whether she's _happily_ surprised or if the 'Oh god, Wyatt' was actually meant to be followed with 'What the hell are you doing, you stupid, stupid idiot?' Accordingly, his stomach suddenly feels even less settled than it does on the time jumps. He freezes halfway to reaching for his pocket. "Just tell me if this is a horrible idea," he spits out in a hurry, wincing and trying to brace for her reply.

He thinks she says 'Good-' as she drops her hands from her face, considering what looks to be a shaky smile, but it sounds more like a phlegmy gurgle because of the shiny streams of tears he can already see streaking down her cheeks. So he _thinks_ he's going to be ok, but he's still ever so grateful when she manages to reiterate and choke out a "Good idea" to confirm.

"Good," he echoes with a weak grin. A shaky breath of relief slips out and his chin drops to his chest as he pauses to collect himself for a second.

When he looks up, she's got one hand back up to her face, weakly fisted in front of her mouth, her other arm tight across her own waist, her cheeks still damp and shiny. And he's never wanted this more.

For this part, he manages something a little more eloquent.

"Lucy, you and that damn time machine turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me," he states plainly. "And that night here was the first time I let myself think that it might be possible to be happy again. Or even feel much of _anything_. Possibilities?" he snorts with a soft chuckle. "Turns out it was very possible, _more_ than possible, with _you_. Luce," he begins, digging a small box from his pocket, "w-"

He's _not_ expecting to be cut off, not _then_ , and certainly not by her anxious "Wait-" that he's certain only stops short because of the sheer and utter panic that must be written all over his face as soon as she says it.

But she just sniffles out a laugh at him – and at his panicky expression, he's sure – and asks, her eyes sparkling with not just tears, but with teasing mirth too, "Is it right side up?"

The dread fades, and Wyatt can't help but smirk and give a little eye roll. Sure, she doesn't recognize the place right away, but _that_ she remembers. "Yeah," he laughs in assurance, but then realizes he's not actually sure and he has to look down quickly to check. But it's fine, and she's smiling, and it's going to happen.

So he pries the little box open – the ring does, indeed, stay properly in place – and holds it up to her. And a little sick of the emotional roller coaster he's been on for the past couple of minutes, he just gets right to it. "Dr. Lucy Preston," he prefaces with a growing smile, though not without a little lingering trepidation, "will you marry me?"

Now, he's been the recipient of many hugs from Lucy, so he's well aware of their potential force, and already was even back before they got together, but her initial subdued sniffley nod lulls him into a false sense of security, so she almost bowls him over when she launches herself at him in a frenzy of "Yes, oh my god, Wyatt, yes" right as _he's_ in the middle of getting up off his knee to go to _her_. But he manages to stay upright _and_ hang onto the ring, so he counts that as two more successes on top of the 'yes'. So then he's on his feet with Lucy wrapped around his neck and he lifts her off the ground and buries his face in her neck as tears well up in his eyes too because it's happening and for so long he never thought he'd get to feel this again.

He has no idea how long they just hold each other, but eventually he sets her back down on her feet. They disentangle themselves just enough move on from the strictly hugging phase of the embrace to a kiss, but Wyatt moves to slide his hand up to the back of her head and realizes he's still clutching the stupid open ring box, and if he doesn't just get it on her finger soon, he _is_ going to end up dropping it.

Breaking the kiss, he backs away just enough to hold the box between them with one hand and reach for her left hand with the other. She's crying all over again when he slips it on her finger, but then again, he's pretty sure he is too.

She's staring at the ring, which he really hopes is a good thing considering what he and Rufus had had to go through just to get the damn thing back in the 30's without her realizing that, no, there wasn't actually some time machine computer malfunction that required her to help troubleshoot while Wyatt ran off to get 'food'.

"Better than some random doctor finding you a ring in a bathroom?" he teases, the other, unspoken, question being 'nicer than that giant, ostentatious thing from the doctor, right?'

He gets a laugh and a nod as a response, but she's still staring at the ring. "Is this from…" she finally asks.

"'36," he confirms with a smile.

The realization is obvious on her face when she puts those pieces together in her head and then she's wrapped around him in another hug, murmuring "I love you so much" in his ear.

He echoes the words right back in _her_ ear as they sway in the embrace for who knows how long.

At some point, she leans back a little, his arms still looped around her waist as she sniffles, wipes at her cheeks, and looks around again. "I can't believe you did this," she says incredulously. "How… Were we ever even really going to West Texas?"

"How?'' he laughs, "I know you in cars. And add the Benadryl or Dramamine or whatever you were popping on the plane? And a burrito?"

She scoffs softly, but she's smiling and doesn't contest his words.

"I may have picked the flight that got in after dark for a reason," he admits, continuing. "Better chance of you staying asleep the whole time and not seeing signs saying 'East' or 'Arkansas'."

With another smile, she leans back into the hug, resting her head on his shoulder.

He drops a kiss on her head and assures her, "I'm still going to show you Texas, don't worry."

Her head rockets back up and her eyes are wide with alarm. "But, not-" she stammers. "We can't go there tonight, right? You can't drive that much without sleep."

A chuckle escapes him at her reaction; he doesn't remind her of everything they've all done on time jumps with far less sleep, not to mention when he's been overseas for military operations. Instead, he informs her with a grin, "We fly from Little Rock to Abilene the day after tomorrow. Saves us half the time and a hell of a lot of driving. Only an hour and a half from there."

She seems placated by that reply, but then she drapes her arms loosely around his neck, countering with playful suspicion, "That doesn't tell me what we're doing tonight… And tomorrow?"

He shrugs coyly. "I might have gotten us a room only 40 minutes away at a B and B in Hot Springs." Leaning in towards her, he adds with a smirk, "We can put everything Bonnie and Clyde were doing in there to shame," before brushing a trail of kisses along neck.

She just giggles, so he kisses with a little more intent and adds, "And tomorrow I had plans to get my fiancée in a bikini in a hot spring all day…"

Another laugh bubbles up from her, and she teases, "Fiancée plans? You were so sure I'd say yes?"

Given all the nerves that had him doubting what he had no place actually doubting, he's more solemn than she is when he replies, answering honestly, "I was hoping like hell, babydoll."

Her expression softens and she tilts her head a little, reaching up to stroke his cheek. "And I was hoping you'd ask on this trip," she admits seriously, before finishing with a gently teasing, "sweetheart." They both grin into a sweet kiss before she breaks it off to add, "Just didn't expect _this_."

He barely has a chance to register that, for all his subterfuge to ensure she had no idea about coming to Arkansas, the trip to Texas was apparently stupidly obvious in and of itself and she was expecting it anyway, because she leans in again and pulls his mouth to hers in a wonderfully distracting way. Tongues tangle, hands start roaming, and suddenly he's really hoping the museum doesn't have security cameras in the parking lot because he's pretty sure what they're doing no longer counts as 'proposal' but as 'foreplay'. Or possibly more, considering exactly where those hands are roaming to.

But she's on the same page as him, because she pulls away, panting, all swollen lips and sultry eyes. "Can we get to that B and B?"

He lays one more quick kiss on her before grabbing her hand and running his thumb over the ring. "Yes, ma'am."

 **~FIN~**

* * *

 **So, it turns out the bank in episode 9 was real, located in Fayetteville, Arkansas. And the Stortz Plantation that the cabin was meant to be near was also real, but located in the county that Little Rock is in (I couldn't find the actual town/location), so roughly 3 hours away with modern cars. A car from then would take longer, presumably, which explains leaving town in daylight and arriving at the cabin at night. The actual Bonnie and Clyde ambush site has a historical marker along the road and there are two small museums in the nearest town (Gibsland, Louisiana). I figured that, with the altered history, a marker and museum might then exist at the one single site of the killing, with the cabin turned into the museum. So that's where that came from in this story.**

 **(I still have many questions about the episode now that I know where real-life locations were, along with how the original ambush went down… the primary one being, how did Rufus get to the cabin?)**

 **Also, Texans, if you're reading, forgive me if driving an hour and a half from Abilene means another airport would have made more sense to fly to – I've only ever driven east from Houston and know little of West Texas. There were too many airports to figure out which had commercial flights.**

 **Thanks for reading :)**


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